


I give you all the years from then to the coming one

by shamelessnameless



Series: Monsters are always hungry, darling [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was going to be 32 this year and he had been in love with Marco for over six years. Most of that time they hadn’t even spent with each other and still – Marco was it for him. Nothing had changed that fact and Mats was sure that nothing would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I give you all the years from then to the coming one

**Author's Note:**

> Title is stolen from Philip Levine. 
> 
> This is it! Hope you enjoyed reading this story!

“No, no, no, NO,” Auba said, “you left the fucking club six months ago. Why do I still have to be your fucking therapist, Mats?” “Why is Marco not picking up my calls?” Mats said right away, because he had learnt over time that being blunt with Auba was the only way to stop his monologues. “Oh god,” Auba said, “this is a cruel fucking joke by the universe. On my expense. Why do I have to know the two densest people in the world and why do the two of you have to be in a stupid relationship, why?” Mats didn’t confirm nor deny the relationship thing. He had tried once or twice in the beginning when calling Auba was still something new. It hadn’t gone so well. 

“Just tell me, please,” Mats said softly, “this brings up a whole fucking bunch of terrible memories and I don’t want to deal with them.” “Mats,” Auba sighed, “please think for a moment. What happened last year at around this time and what has happened ten days ago?” Mats thought for a moment. Then he said, “aw, shit, come on” and Auba cackled at him and cut the call. 

\-----------------

The Cathy thing had been unexpected and hard to navigate, so he hadn’t talked with Marco about it. Marco called him at least three times a week and they had all sorts of conversations. They talked about their respective clubs, talked about food, the weather, music, other sports, Mario’s weird selfies, Neven’s weird hairstyles, their hopes for the Euros, Auba’s son and a thousand other things. They talked about personal things too. Sometimes Marco would whisper his insecurities about his body’s performance level in the phone or he would debate about coming out to his family. From time to time Mats would admit how much it hurt to not talk with his family ever since his break-up with Cathy. Mats sometimes thought of bringing up what had happened a year ago, but why should he? This, those little funny conversations were more than he had thought he could have when he had left Dortmund and he cherished them, didn’t go out on the days Marco usually called instead settling down with a glass of wine when his phone ringed and he didn’t stop grinning for the whole duration of their calls. 

Settling in Manchester had been difficult, least of all because Mats felt as if he had left behind unfinished business in Dortmund. Of course, there was this huge thing with Marco that still hurt and that he still wanted to mend, but leaving the club after performing the worst season of his life, abandoning his team when he was supposed to be the captain and coming of as arrogant and selfish in the media had given his departure a bitter taste. On top of that his injuries and him being out of form hadn’t made his first few months in Manchester easy. Having those funny little talks with Marco every few days had helped Mats immensely to not feel as lonely and helpless as he had felt last Christmas. There was no way that he was facing that fiasco again, so he wasn’t going to interpret anything in Marco’s ongoing interest in him. 

It had taken Mats months to process what had happened after he had broken up with Cathy. He had had to stop thinking about it at one point because hoping and yearning to be able to change the past and mend things with Marco had started to seriously mess with his head. 

He wondered how it would have been, if he had called Marco – he was pretty sure that by now they would probably more or less live with each other, their lifes interwoven. He imagined sometimes how he would come downstairs in the mornings, finding Marco brewing their coffee in one of Mats’ big shirts, how he would wrap his arms around him from behind, press a kiss on his nape and simple breathe him in. He would imagine how Marco’s hand would be a comforting weight on his leg in the car after they lost a game, how he would tease Marco for all the hair products lining Mats’ bathroom shelves. He imagined the two of them going for runs really early in the morning and sharing a shower afterwards, Marco pressing kisses against Mats’ throat.

Those were lovely images in his mind, but they couldn’t change the fact that he was in England and Marco was in Germany and they hadn’t seen each other for half a year. 

But Mats still hoped and by now he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t stop hoping. It had taken incredibly long, but he had accepted that Marco was it for him, that them not being together couldn’t change that. 

So Mats had been careful. He didn’t want Marco to know what he still felt for him. He knew that Marco had been doing well, had been more outgoing for months now, had built honest relationships with Auba, Marcel and Robin. He wasn’t as lonely, as vulnerable as before and Mats wanted him to be able to go out and meet men without wondering about the what if’s of their life. He wanted him to be happy and being a friend for Marco seemed to do the trick.

It also helped a lot to look at what they had and simply label it a friendship. Mats knew that he would not have been able to write Marco a text message otherwise, telling him that he and Cathy had to talk because they were finalizing the divorce and there was nothing else going on between them. Never mind the fact, that it was quite an unusual thing to write to a platonic friend, but it seemed to do the trick. Marco texted him back a few hours later, claiming his busy schedule to be the reason for his silence. Mats called him that evening and they had an easy conversation about BVB’s place in the league and didn’t mention anything else.

\-----------------

Mats still felt lonely. The need to keep to himself hadn’t left him after he had left Dortmund behind. He had an easy relationship with the guys of his new team, sometimes joining them for drinks or a movie. He would talk a bit more with Bastian, but it was never personal, did never stray far from topics that were comfortable for them. And it was ok with Mats, since he wasn’t looking for anyone to poke and prod into what he considered private. He simply had those moments, when they managed to win after a hard game, when he read something that touched him or when he wanted someone to just look at him and get him that he wished for Marco to be there, that he wished for someone to share the joy he felt. 

Auba knew about Mats’ loneliness. He hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t used it as an argument at one point so Mats knew that the worry he had felt for Marco had started to shift to Mats. He had pushed hard in favor of Mats spending the holidays in Dortmund and Mats hadn’t been exactly against the idea but when he asked Marco what he had planned for Christmas and was met with an indifferent “family and holidays with Marcel and Robin” he had decided against it. “There are other people you could see, Mats,” Auba had said lightly, in a tone that was a lot of things but certainly not light, “I would be happy to see you. I’m sure your brother would like to see you as well.” “No, he wouldn’t,” Mats snorted and had changed the topic. 

He had no idea why it had started to be this hard for him to admit to things that he needed. He had never been particularly open with people, had preferred to wear an air of arrogance for much of his life in order to deal with things that felt unpleasant to him but he had started to hide behind a mask for a few months now that he didn’t feel comfortable putting on any longer. 

\-----------------

Christmas came. Mats’ mother was somewhere with her girlfriends and Mats’ father and brother spent the holidays with each other. Marco wrote him a short, sweet message and Mats replied in kind. He drank a glass of wine and read one of the books he had wanted to read for months. It was fine.

Marco called him on the 26th, telling him about his adventures as uncle and his mother’s pie and the Christmas lights that weren’t working and who was Mats kidding, he was so fucking heart weary and sad. “So, what have you been doing?” Marco said after having talked Mats ear off for 20 minutes, “you’re in Munich, right?” Mats couldn’t help it and didn’t suppress a snort, which was met with silence. “Mats,” Marco said in a very calm voice, “are you by yourself in Manchester?” “There was not exactly a place where I could have gone, Marco,” Mats answered and he didn’t know why he got angry but his voice was definitely sharp. Marco didn’t reply for a moment and Mats pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry,” Marco said, “I wish you would have told me. I wish you weren’t alone.” “I don’t need your pity,” Mats pushed out, through a throat that felt as if he had swallowed gravel. “Hey,” Marco said softly, “this isn’t pity. I care about you. I don’t want you to be by yourself on days like these,” and fuck, Mats was struck speechless and he felt like crying. “I…,” he managed but Marco shushed him and they both listened to Mats hitching breathing. 

Being by himself was by now something that came naturally to Mats. He still had a few friends that he cherished and there were Marco and Auba who provided him with a running commentary on their lifes. Mats had moments when he was deeply lonely, when he craved a hug so badly that he had to lie down and wrap his arms around himself just to pretend that someone cared enough to give him more physical contact than a quick hug on the sidelines or during goal celebrations. It wasn’t a constant thing, though. There were lots of days and weeks even when he didn’t feel lonely, when he focused on Manchester and nothing else.

\-----------------

Auba insisted on visiting Mats in early March when league games took a break for national teams’ games. Mats was injured with a swollen ankle and Gabon wasn’t meeting up. “It’s the perfect opportunity and I will use it,” said Auba, “we’re going to take a picture of me wearing a Manchester jersey and give Marco a heart attack and it will be great.” 

So Mats spent Thursday evening cleaning up his place, hobbling around while trying to take pressure off his ankle. He cleaned the guest bedroom and the guest bathroom that had gone unused as to now and then sat down on his couch with a weary huff. Auba had declined to be picked up and was strict enough about it to actually stop Mats driving to the airport. He hadn’t cooked anything because Auba had said that he wanted to go out and have a nice dinner and drinks. Mats was nervous without having a real reason and when he doorbell rang his heart picked up speed. 

He opened the door and was greeted by a brightly grinning Auba – and Erik, Mo and Schmelle, who hadn’t been called up either. They all started talking at once and Mats was hugged and shoved back down on his couch and they took out some Indian curries and beers and Mats felt slightly overwhelmed, but in a good way. Someone was here, he wasn’t going to spend the next three days by himself and he wasn’t alone and it was so weird and Auba squeezed his leg and everyone was talking and Mats was pretty sure that he was grinning like a maniac. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Mo said when they were all too beat to keep up their conversations or insults, “I hate sharing a bed. And I bite. It’s for the best.” Schmelle snorted and kicked Erik who had slung down on the floor and looked half asleep. “It’s me and you then,” said Auba, slinging an arm over Mats’ shoulders and hanging half on him when they got up, until Mats complained about his injury and Auba let him go quickly. Mats went ahead and got into bed, too tired to brush his teeth, while Auba used the attached bathroom. He could her Erik laughing in the room next door and fished for his phone on his bedside table. He had a message from Marco that was full of emojis, asking him if the surprise went well, but Mats was too worn out to do more than simply text back a peace sign. Auba came back out of the bathroom, whistling softly. He fell down next to Mats, touching his side and took some time to reply to messages on his own phone. “Tomorrow,” Auba said after a moment, “we’ll have breakfast with the guys and then they will go and do some sightseeing and you and me will have a nice lunch somewhere and we’ll join them afterwards.” Mats hummed his agreement and Auba stretched to switch off the bedside lamp. He settled back down and started petting Mats’ hair after a moment, soothing him while he fell asleep. 

Lunch was as relaxed as breakfast had been. Mats’ and Auba’s relationship hadn’t been without difficulties in the last years, so Mats had been a bit nervous when Auba shooed out the others and proceeded to drive into the city like the crazy person he was. But Auba had simply chatted about his family and his own progress and Marco’s new obsession with One Direction that Mats unfortunately knew of as well. Auba had smiled at him and took a selfie of the two of them, forwarding it to Marco. “He’s doing ok, you know,” Auba said after a moment, “he’s been going out a few times. Marcel bullied him into doing another clothing line and Robin thinks he might be bi.” “Huh,” said Mats and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Auba sighed and leaned forward until their knees were touching. “This is a constant thing, hm,” he said. “What is?” Mats asked. “How you feel about him. How he still feels about you as a matter of fact,” Auba said very seriously. ”Maybe,” Mats admitted, “but it has gotten easier. Not seeing him has helped. I’m happy he is doing well.” “Yeah,” Auba said and then changed the topic. 

They stayed for another night and went out to some of the places Mats had been going with his team. Erik got drunk, Mo played dart and got drunk, Schmelle talked on the phone with his wife and got drunk. Auba was sitting next to Mats at their table, knees pressing against Mats leg and was texting someone. “Marco says hi,” he said, “he’s been texting me nonstop. I think I’ve never seen him that jealous.” “Huh?” Mats said und contemplated taking Mo’s darts away which seemed to increasingly become weapons against the others players. “When I told him I would come visit you. He was pissed,” Auba clarified. Mats gave up on observing the room and looked at Auba instead. “I told you that it didn’t change for him either. But he trying to get over you and if you don’t start making some moves, it’ll be too late. And I love both of you and would prefer to see you happy with each other but that’s not exactly something new for you, isn’t it. I just don’t get what you’re so afraid of, “ Auba said, placing a warm hand on Mats’ back. Mats swallowed against the burn in his eyes. “I hurt him,” he admitted, “and he trusted me so much with things and I still hurt him. And he wasn’t there when I needed him and I know it wasn’t due to any bad feelings between us but miscommunication, but I needed someone and most importantly him and I just can’t get over it. It didn’t work out and now I am living here and it would be even worse to try it again long-distance and we can’t do this another time. I got him back as a friend and I’m not willing to risk it.” Auba sighed deeply; wrapping the arm he had on Mats’ back around his shoulders and pressing them close together. They sat like this in silence for a few minutes. “Ok,” Auba said, “want me to stop pushing then? We officially declare this is the end?” Mats felt like crying all of a sudden, hearing someone say it out loud like this. He managed to nod and Auba got them a few shots and Mats got very, very, very drunk, waking up the next morning alone in his bed with a voice message from Auba laughing at him and claiming he was the worst host ever if he couldn’t even get up to bring his guests to the airport. 

\-----------------

And that was it, for the next few months. He still talked with Marco, they still messaged each other but Mats started to make a serious effort to get over him. He went out a few times, had sex with a few guys. He stopped thinking about Marco first thing in the mornings when he was still in bed and dreaded training. They managed to miss each other at every single game the national team was playing in preparation for the Euros, because one of them was hurt or not called up to give them some resting time. Mats did the math one day and realized that when they both made it to the Euros (and he didn’t even want to think about Marco getting injured before the start of the games again) they would see each other for the first time in almost a year.

Auba called him three weeks before the national team was going to meet up and travel to France after a few days in their training camp in Germany. He was in a foul mood, complaining about everything. “You realize I know you well enough to know that something is up, right?” Mats said when Auba had been going on about a failed pizza delivery for close to 5 minutes. Auba cursed briefly and then said, “There’s two things. You won’t like either of them and I have a hard time deciding whom I have to be faithful to right now. I should have never befriended the two of you.” He sighed again. Mats waited. And waited. “Is there anything wrong with him? You’re starting to scare me,” he said after a few more moments of silence. “He’s going out of his mind with worry,” Auba said after a moment, “he’s scared of injuring himself and it shows in the way he plays, but he doesn’t want to admit it. I tried to get him to see someone but he’s blocking me in a way he hasn’t done in years. He’s been irresponsible with his body and he lost some weight and he called me drunk a few times and I tried helping him but he doesn’t let me. I talked with Marcel and Robin and they tried to help him as well, but it’s like he isn’t even able to listen. He clams up and then he tries to leave as soon as possible and he got his driver’s license back so it’s kind of hard to keep track of him.” “Ok,” Mats said, “but it’s only three more weeks, so we can try to…” There’s another thing,” Auba said quickly, “sorry to interrupt but from the two of them that’s the one that I don’t want to tell you about. It should come from Marco, but he’s refusing and I have a slight idea what this will do to you, so I won’t let you come to Germany and be surprised by it.” “Ok,” Mats said softly. Auba breathed in deeply “He’s seeing someone. They met a few weeks ago and it’s going well and we’ve all met him already and he’s nice and funny and probably not even a gold-digger. Marco likes him a lot.” 

Unconsciously, Mats had known that Marco wouldn’t stay single forever, just like Mats hadn’t really planned on staying alone for the rest of his life. It still felt being punched in the gut and he had to take a moment to get his bearings while Auba was talking in his ear. Marco was seeing someone. Marco was in a new relationship and he knew that he had agreed to bury the topic of them coming back together months ago but now it felt final and Mats felt numb.

“MATS,” Auba said very forcefully and Mats snapped out of it. “What do you want me to do, then?” Mats said, “I can’t exactly call him and talk with him if I am not supposed to know about anything. And you know, he’s right; you shouldn’t have told me. That’s his thing to tell.” Auba sighed wearily. “I know that. I told you that I have no idea what’s best here. If you didn’t want to know then I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not angry,” Mats said, “I just don’t see the point. Or do you have an idea how to help him?” “No,” Auba admitted, “but maybe call him. Pretend you’re scared or something, so he doesn’t feel as stupid as he feels. He’s been having a really hard time with opening up to someone and I’m just scared that this guy isn’t there for him in a way that’s actually supporting Marco.” 

But Mats decided against calling, without really knowing why. He wasn’t angry about Marco’s new boyfriend, wasn’t disappointed, but it felt weird. They had been friends for close to a year now and Mats didn’t want to call with unwanted advice. And it wasn’t really his place, was it? There were other people in Marco’s life now. Mats wasn’t part of that innermost circle any longer and he needed to accept that before they saw each other again. 

\-----------------

He traveled with Basti to Germany at the end of May. He was looking forward to see all the others again, knowing that he would meet the guys from Dortmund at the airport in Frankfurt already, before all of them would board a bus down to the south of Germany. He wasn’t nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about. He was a professional; this was his job. 

“Hey,” Marco said when he met Mats at the airport, grinning from cheek to cheek and for a moment they simply stared at each other and then they were moving forward at the same time, Marco fitting naturally in Mats’ arms. Mats clutched him closer, breathing him in and it had been so fucking long. They stood like this for the next few moments, none of them willing to break their embrace, until Basti very pointedly coughed. “You two,” he said warily, but with a fond undertone and then he was hugging Marco as well, a quick clasp that made Mats realize rather harshly how inappropriate his hugging must have looked like. 

He couldn’t stop looking at Marco. Marco looked a bit tired and a bit thin, but he was joking around and he was smiley and he stayed close to Mats during the drive down south. They listened to some music on Marco’s iPod, their legs touching, and god, Mats had missed him so much. 

The next few days were hectic, filled with training and adjusting and mental prep. Mats got up early and at the end of the day he fell into bed and was asleep within a minute. He and Marco took their breakfast together from time to time, but Marco was usually warming up with Andre or Mesut and they didn’t train with each other all that often.

They played a final game just before departing for France and Marco performed terribly, running the wrong ways or loosing the ball or once blocking a sure goal shot by Mario accidently. They ended the game with a win nonetheless and Mats went up to Marco after talking with the other defenders for a moment. Up close he could see the strain the game had left and he hugged Marco close before thinking too much about it, burying his face in Marco’s sweaty hair. Marco sagged against him as if his strings had been cut, chest heaving against Mats. “Hey,” Mats murmured, “you’ve done it, ok? You’re going with us.” Marco nodded against Mats’ neck and weakly patted Mats’ chest. 

\-----------------

They went to France. Mats wasn’t really performing all that well, but he still started every game. Marco wasn’t playing that much better and didn’t start every game and Mats knew that it made him crazy but the thing was – Marco was going out of his way to not spent too much time with Mats, to keep their interaction to a minimum. It didn’t make sense. They hadn’t had an argument since seeing each other again and they still talked frequently, not as much as they used to, but a lot more than Mats managed with most other people he had left behind in Dortmund. 

He didn’t bring it up but it fucking hurt and he was angry with himself to let it hurt him. 

He went up to his room early two days before they were starting in the semi-final, not in the mood to hang out with the others. He had planned on watching a bit of TV and then calling it an early night, but someone knocked on his door a few minutes after he had settled down.

\-----------------

He knew it was Marco before he opened the door.

He was wearing one of the BVB hoodies that he wasn’t supposed to be seen in during the Euros, looking down at his feet, shoulders hunched. Mats stepped aside without a word and Marco came in slowly, sinking down on the bed and burying his hands in his hoodie. He looked pale and shivery. “I’m sorry,” he said and Mats was sure that he wasn’t imagining the tremor in Marco’s voice, “for not talking. I know you noticed.” Mats shrugged. Marco risked a quick glance at him and then dropped his sight back to the floor. “Want to tell me why we’re not talking?” Mats said after a moment. Marco swallowed and hunched his shoulders some more. “It’s…,” he said and then he looked up at Mats and god, his eyes were welling up and Mats sat down next to him without thinking about it and Marco leaned closer to him immediately and a moment later they were laying down, Marco cradled in Mats’ arms. Marco wasn’t exactly crying but he wasn’t exactly not crying either. 

“Hey,” Mats said, but Marco was shaking his head immediately. “Just please - ,” he managed to choke out, voice racked. Mats hugged him closer, shushing him, pressing kisses into his hair.

“It’s a lot of things,” Marco admitted some time later. Mats had rearranged them and they were sitting up at the headboard of Mats’ bed, the blanket spread over them. Marco’s head was resting on Mats’ chest, which gave him the disadvantage of not seeing Marco’s eyes but the advantage of petting Marco’s soft hair. 

“I was really stressed out about not starting in the Euros. Now I’m playing not well and we’ll most likely not even reach the final, because no one is doing that well and I know I shouldn’t take the criticism to heart, but I’ve kind of been doing it for a few weeks and I just can’t distance myself anymore. And there are some problems back home and Auba’ mad at me and it’s just…just….” He sniffled again and Mats sunk down a bit, bringing their heads closer together. “Not being able to distance yourself is something that happens to everyone at one point,” he tried assuring Marco, who immediately shook his head. “It’s more than that,” he said, “it’s….not fun anymore. To play football. It’s just not like it used to be, and I don’t know if it’s because of the bad press that’s getting to me or the fact that I suck or –“ “You don’t suck,” Mats tried to interrupt again, “I don’t want you to think that. It isn’t and never could be true.” Marco pushed away from him, turning around to look Mats in the eyes. “Maybe,” he said in a hushed tone, “but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s been awfully lonely without you and I don’t dislike it, but I stopped loving it as much as I used to.” Marco bit his lips and Mats could tell that he had reached some kind of inner decision. “There’s another thing,” Marco said, “you won’t be surprised because Auba is a noisy bastard and I hate him – don’t give me that look, we were kind of not speaking for a few weeks because of it.” Marco was looking Mats dead in the eye now. “I’m seeing someone,” he said, studying Mats face intently, “and it’s going quite well and I didn’t know if that was something you wanted to know. I apparently tend to talk about him a lot and I didn’t want to do this with you and he has kind of asked me to keep away from you and –“ “Hold on,” Mats said, “you’re giving me a lot of information and it’s kind of hard to keep up with you and –“ “No,” Marco said and his voice gave Mats a shiver, a foreboding feeling that felt so fucking bad that he would have preferred to jump out the window instead of listening. “I thought about it for weeks,” Marco said, “and I need to do this. We would never work out and I’m still somehow wishing for us to be in something steady and good, but we won’t be. Noah is good to me and he’s important to me and my life in Dortmund needs to be important and I think we should stop having anything but a professional relationship.”

Mats thought it was quite funny how silently a whole world could crumble – the only sounds were Marco’s breathing and a door falling shut somewhere in the hallway. 

“You’re telling me this after crying in my arms?” he said and he knew that he had never used that tone of voice with Marco, could see how surprised Marco was by it, but he made no effort to gentle his voice. He was furious. “You’re telling me this after being one of my most important friends for years?” Marco opened his mouth and Mats got up, putting space between them. “You’re telling me this two days before I have to play a semi-final in the fucking Euros?” Mats shouted. Marco looked scared now, but Mats couldn’t care, couldn’t see or feel anything other than betrayed and hurt in a way that he hadn’t even thought possible. “I loved you,” he whispered, “and no matter how fucking hard it got, I always tried to be at least a friend and you’re throwing that in my face.” “Mats,” Marco said and Mats was done. “Get out,” he said and when Marco didn’t move, he shouted it, starting towards the bed again. Marco bolted, shaking now and he was fumbling with the door handle and then he was gone.

\-----------------

Mats didn’t do what he wanted to do. He didn’t get drunk. He didn’t call anyone, not even for sex. 

He played a semi-final instead in which Marco was brought in in the 74th minute and he lost that semi-final. A week later he was able to go on holidays, but he didn’t. Instead he rebooked his flights to Manchester and holed up in his house for two weeks, calling numbers he wasn’t supposed to know, having sex with pretty boys. At night he would lie awake for hours, not thinking, not feeling anything. 

When the two weeks were over and he had to report for training, he did and told his couch that he needed therapy. 

\-----------------

Auba called him and called him again and again and again and then he texted him to let him know that he didn’t have any problems with flying to England to show up on Mats’ doorstep. 

“There’s no point in talking,” Mats said, and why yes, he maybe had had a vodka shot before picking up the phone and dialing Auba’s number. “I don’t want to talk about it, not with you or anyone else. I’m so fucking done and I don’t need you to come and try to make it better, because nothing can ever make it ok and your fucking savior complex can fuck off.” He was breathing harshly. The line was silent for a moment. “Wow,” Auba said, “here I was trying to make sure that one of the people I care most about has been fine after one of my other best friends pulled an absolute shitty thing on him. But you can also listen to me complaining about the chicken I had for dinner yesterday.” He continued talking and Mats tried to get a hold of his temper, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he interrupted at one point. Auba was silent for a moment. “I know that I’ve been trying to mend things between the two of you for years,” he said softly, “and I love you, both of you. But our friendship hasn’t been defined by Marco’s relationship with you for years and him kicking you out of his life doesn’t equal me kicking you out of mine. If you want me to never mention him again, I won’t. But you will always be able to talk with me about whatever’s going on with you and that will not be an offer I’ll ever withdraw, okay?” “Pierre,” Mats said and he knew he sounded wrecked, “I loved him so much.” “Shit,” Auba said and Mats could feel his face heating up, “shit, I know, Mats. I do. And I am so so so sorry that it didn’t work out, I am.” “I need him,” Mats said and his stupid voice was breaking but who cared, “I need him, it’s been years and I still need him and it doesn’t get better and he has someone else and –“ “Don’t,” Auba hushed him, “you don’t need him. I know you and you don’t need him. You have to trust me with this, yeah? I’m not saying that it won’t hurt for some time, but you’re strong enough on your own. You don’t need him.” 

Mats sobbed on the phone for almost an hour, to out of it to say anything else. Auba told him to get some sleep after he had managed to calm down, sniffling pathetically. 

Mats slept. He got up the next day and briefly texted a few people, Auba included. He went to training and therapy afterwards.

\-----------------

He continued to go to training and matches and therapy for the next three and a half years. And they weren’t bad years; he spent them with new and old friends, won a few titles, improved his game, and didn’t get injured badly. He dated a bit and had sex a few times and he didn’t get a pretend girlfriend or wife, because he tried to be true to himself to at least some extent (and well, there was a certain guy in Dortmund who wouldn’t care if Mats married, but Mats didn’t want to lie to anyone about whom he loved most in this world). He was content and sometimes happy and sometimes awfully happy. He thought of Marco from time to time, never liked their international games, because it continued to be hard to be around someone who had once been the very definition of happiness for Mats. But by now thinking of Marco didn’t feel as heart breaking and gut wrenching as it had done at one point.

He had accepted all of it. The fact that he would always love Marco, would always long for him, would never get over the what-ifs completely. The fact that it would always hurt, but that the pain had dulled over time, that he could be happy with other people, that he could be happy being by himself. 

He didn’t talk with Marco again, not about anything personal. He would catch Marco looking at him during national team meet-ups from time to time. Marco would immediately drop his eyes or avert his gaze, a spot of color on his cheeks. 

He stopped talking with Auba about Marco. He didn’t take any news well and Auba refused to tell him anything once he figured that out. 

Three and a half years of silence and he was about to leave for dinner when his phone chirped and he expected it to be anyone but Marco. “This is out of the blue,” the message said, “but tell me why you didn’t come talk to me after you left Cathy.”

\-----------------

Mats was maybe having a tiny little crisis. 

There was a big part of him that wanted to write back piss off, or get lost or you stupid idiot, how dare you.

But that wasn’t Mats. Sure, he hadn’t heard anything from Marco for years, but there was only one way he could treat Marco, no matter their past. He had only lost his cool with him once and after he had replayed the scene in his hotel room again and again and again, he was pretty sure that him scaring Marco had been a big factor for Marco to never try to contact him again. 

Mats had all those theories about why Marco had broken off their friendship. A lot of those made no sense, but the timing and the way he had done it implied that he had felt overwhelmed and helpless and probably pressured into it as well. When Mats thought back to that evening now he was sure that if he had reacted differently Marco would have explained his reasoning. They would have been able to talk it out and Mats wouldn’t have had to wonder for years which of the reasons Marco had mentioned were the important ones. Never mind that Mats knew that Marco’s mental health had still been shaky at that point (and how he hoped that Marco was doing fine, was getting all the help he needed), which meant that Mats should have tried harder to let him say what he needed to say. There was a tiny little thought in Mats head that things wouldn’t have had to end it he had reacted differently and that wasn’t something he liked to dwell on. He regretted enough.

He knew that he had scared Marco, had taken him by surprise with his aggressiveness and knowing Marco as well as Mats did had made him realize years ago that Marco had been completely thrown by it. Marco’s insecurities and vulnerabilities had been safe with Mats for years up until that night and after all the effort it had taken him to open up to Mats, Marco wouldn’t be able to do it again, unless he had a really good reason.

Mats had no idea if Marco would contact him again after he gave him an answer, but he knew that he could only answer truthfully.

“I was so scared,” he wrote, “and I don’t know, not sure of myself. If I broke up with her I wanted to be with you for good but then I started thinking about how impossible that was for us and then I didn’t feel ready. I was expecting you to give me a call or show up on my doorstep and you didn’t. It got to a point where I couldn’t reach out to you any longer, couldn’t reach out to anyone, where I needed professional help. I didn’t want to burden you and I was incredibly scared of what would happen to me if we couldn’t make this work. I tried to rationalize it and tell myself that it was the best for the team – that I had to think about my career and all that stuff. But the truth is that I didn’t know what to say, because I was scared and then I was a mess and then the timing was never right and I am so sorry for hurting you.” 

Mats went into the shower directly after pressing sent. Marco wouldn’t answer. Whatever it was that he had needed from Mats wouldn’t extend to anything else. It was fine. It was good to get that weight of his chest, no matter how many years it had been.

\-----------------

His heart started beating like crazy when he came out of the shower, nervous like hell when seeing a new text message.

“That I am doing this via text speaks volumes about my personality,” Marco had written, “but I just couldn’t man up. I didn’t want to this any other way really, because we somehow always manage to miscommunicate and that’s been the biggest problem, no matter how fucked up the circumstances were. I kind of always knew that those were your reasons even though I tried to convince myself that it was because you didn’t want me. I made a mistake in France and I wanted to apologize for it for years. I’ve never felt what I’ve felt for you for anyone else. I’ve never had the connection again with someone else, and I know that this whole thing is kind of pointless – it has been years and I should be over it or live with it or whatever else. I just wish that we had had our chance to try this for real once. That we could start with a clean sheet and a promise to talk things out, to be honest with each other about what we want or need. I can’t stop thinking about how it could have been and I stopped lying to myself. I’ve always wanted you and I wanted everything with you and life has been incredibly awful lately and I needed to get this out, because I started to be afraid that I would never get a change to apologize and I couldn’t have lived with that. That’s selfish, I know. I don’t want to trouble you with all my emotional crap. But I hope you know that you were never the reason it didn’t work. That was us not communicating, my terrible people skills and maybe the circumstances. I hope you’re the happiest you can be and that you don’t feel like life is pointless without me, just because that’s what I’m feeling about you. I wish I had asked you that night to never let me go instead of pushing you away like this, because that was what I wanted to do, but I felt overwhelmed for a lot of reasons and couldn’t think straight and I was kind of expecting you to fight me on that decision, to convince me that we could be friends. I never expected it to end that way and I know how stupid that was. It helped me face a lot of things I never wanted to work through and now I am here whishing things were different. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

There were reasonable things that Mats should do. Think for a while maybe, get some advice, have a drink or take a nap to calm down….

But he was going to be 32 this year and he had been in love with Marco for over six years. Most of that time they hadn’t even spent with each other and still – Marco was it for him. Nothing had changed that fact and Mats was sure that nothing would. 

Six years were too long to yearn and crave for someone that desperately and not take a fucking chance when it was presented like this. And Mats liked to believe that he had grown as a person so surely Marco had as well. 

He dialed Marco’s number. 

\-----------------

Auba got them drunk about two years later and let them sign a contract claiming that all of their future adopted children would have to be named Pierre or Emerick. “It’s the least you can do for me after that madness,” he said while grinning from ear to ear. Marco giggled against Mats’ shoulder and Mats buried his face in his hair, bursting with love.


End file.
